Harry Potter: Severus Snape's Doppelganger Madness
by Sonata-Time-Flare-Nocturne-Aoi
Summary: One-Shot Complete! Severus Snape finds the tables turned on him when his personal collection of Gryffindor voodoo dolls suddenly comes to life. Rated T for silliness.


**Story: **Harry Potter: Severus Snape's Doppelganger Madness  
**Author**: Master Jin Sonata  
**Written**: January 13, 2020  
**Genre**: Humor  
**Rating**: T  
**Disclaimer**: We do not own J.K. Rowling's series or its unpredictable characters.  
**Author's Note**: This story takes place in Harry's fifth year before the Dept. of Mysteries disaster.

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**{One-Shot}**

Snape felt his heart (well, he would have if he really had a heart) soar as weeks of sleepless nights and innumerous forays into the Restricted Section finally paid off. At last he'd found the book he'd heard so much about from the Dark Lord. Sure, most of that madman's ideas were ridiculous and insane, but, if one looked closely beneath the rubble of his ramblings, a gem of an idea might be found. And that was exactly what Snape now held in his potion-stained hands.

Tracing long pale fingers across the spine and cover of the ancient leather-bound tome, Snape thought that this was better than chocolate. It was even better than taking points from those blasted Gryffindors during class.

He turned and stalked out of the library, headed down the deserted darkened corridors and back towards his beloved dungeons; the antiquated book entitled "Voodoo For Fun, Profit and Revenge" tucked safely under his arm among the billowing folds of his robes.

* * *

**A few weeks later...**

"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm everyone's favorite person. I play the tortured soul bit so well that everybody loves me. And that's why I can break all the rules I want!"

"And I'm a muggle Know-It-All with big beaver teeth and hair that looks like something one of Hagrid's animals coughed up, who knows absolutely everything about everything, and keeps on talking no matter that no one is listening!"

"And I'm The Weasel. I feel inadequate compared to the litter of kids my parents popped out so I have to over-compensate by being even dumber than the other Gryffindor dunderheads!"

It was into this scene that Professor Dumbledore entered the empty Potions classroom. He paused in the doorway at the peculiar sight before him and wondered if perhaps some of his favorite lemon drops had gone bad. There, in front of the elderly blue eyes, sat his Potions Master, poised behind his massive oak work bench, playing with three little dolls and grinning maniacally as, using different voice pitches and intonations for each of the three moppets, made them dance across the desk and into each other with a casual flick of his wrist.

Knowing on some level that he should just turn around now and head back towards his office, he instead cleared his throat to draw the enrapt man's awareness. "Severus?"

The dark-haired professor immediately drew his startled attention from his activities to find the Headmaster standing in his doorway, an unreadable expression on his wrinkled face. Years spent in the service of spying for the Light had made the embittered man one immune to all emotions. Well, nearly all emotion, save embarrassment because at that moment, a tell-tale flush was creeping up the pale man's face.

"Albus," he replied with the last ounce of dignity he possessed.

Dumbledore approached Snape's desk, conjured a comfortable-looking armchair, and proceeded down what he already determined to be a dangerous course of questioning. "Might I inquire as to what you are doing, my dear boy?" he asked as kindly as he could.

"I...um...that is to say..." he flustered.

In the meantime, Dumbledore lifted one of the now-abandoned figurines off of the desk and turned it over in his hands. A hand-drawn face, tufted with a bushy substance he could only assume was hair, was wrapped in a swath of black cloth and surrounded by an unnervingly-familiar red and gold scrap of scarf. The other two on the desk were similarly divested, the only obvious differences being that one possessed a collection of shocking red hair and freckles, and the other a mess of dark fringe covering a bespectacled face hiding a distinct lightening-bolt shaped scar.

"A very nice replica of Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, I must say Severus. Although, I am curious as to its inception, if I might inquire?" Dumbledore asked kindly, the humorous twinkle returning to his eyes.

"It's a magical doppelganger designed to inveigle against charms, hexes, and such. . ."

"Severus," the old man warned firmly.

"Oh fine, they're voodoo dolls I made of your Golden Trio," he snarked. "They're just for amusement. I haven't had time yet to bewitch them to affect those three in any way!"

"I'm very glad to hear that they contain no actual magical properties, but that still leaves me wondering why you were using them."

"I was...um...just reviewing some battle maneuvers and plans."

Dumbledore fixed the stammering professor with a steely gaze, implying that he was quite disappointed in the quality (or lack thereof) of the Potion Master's lie.

"Oh, Fine!" Snape huffed, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "It's amusing for me to pretend these dolls are your golden Gryffindors and make them, for once in their insignificant lives, do what I want them to do. None of their rule breaking or wanton disregard of authority! For once, I have them under my thumb!"

"I'll grant that those three do have a certain penchant for rule breaking, but I don't honestly believe they've been `wanton' about anything," the old man said kindly.

"They have, Albus!" the dark haired man yelled back, red-in-the-face and nearly apoplectic. "I don't know how they do it, but they do it! I know that Potter and his friends were responsible for the thefts from my potion stores back in their second and fourth years! And do you know how many cauldrons those three, plus that twerp Longbottom, blow up on a monthly basis? And I know they go roaming about the school at night. I caught Potter once, and that idiot Lupin just shrugged it off. Damn all you Gryffindors and your... your... Gryffindorness!"

"I see," Dumbledore replied. After all, how could one respond to such a vehement presentation of pent-up rage and childish aggression?

"Humph," Snape huffed as he picked up his wand again and, animating the Harry effigy, proceeded to smash it repeatedly against the hard granite of the classroom wall, all the while wearing a rather evil grin.

After several minutes of watching this display, the elderly wizard stated, "That's rather disturbing, Severus," as calmly as if discussing the weather.

The former Death Eater ceased his torment upon the little cloth doll to meet his old friend's inquiring gaze. "I know," he responded smoothly as he then proceeded to dangle the Weasley and Granger marionettes over a cage of ravenous Runespoors that hadn't been fed since the last full moon.

* * *

**A few days later...**

"See Hermione, I told you we were early!" Ron huffed as the Golden Trio ran, panting, into the Potions classroom. The empty Potions classroom.

"Huh?" Harry grunted as they looked around at the empty desks and unprepared tables, wondering where everyone was.

"Look," Hermione said, pointing to a notice she'd just seen that had been posted to the door. "It says that class is canceled today due to Professor Snape have a conflicting appointment."

"I do know how to read, Hermione," Ron quietly groused under his breath, sincerely hoping that she didn't actually hear him.

"Conflicting appointment? What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It means when a person has two things scheduled for..."

"I know what it means, Hermione," Harry sniped back. "What I meant was, what could that git have scheduled against class time? He has this same class at the same time on the same days of the week every week!"

"Wait up, why are we complaining?" Ron asked, an excited light shining in his brown eyes. "Potions class is canceled. What's so bad about that?"

The three shared a smile and turned to leave the room, when Harry suddenly turned back to look at Snape's desk, something unusual there catching his eye. "What's that?" he asked, moving towards the large work table.

"A desk, Harry," Hermione needled as she and Ron both followed Harry towards the bench and watched their housemate follow a trail of red and gold material into a desk drawer, which he opened and then removed three cloth dolls from within, all of which bore a striking resemblance to one of the three Gryffindors standing there.

"How fascinating," Hermione mused as both Ron and Harry simultaneously called out "That rat bastard!"

"He's made voodoo dolls of us!" Harry further exclaimed as he examined his own tiny doppelganger.

"Woo-doo?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Voodoo. It's a muggle superstition, Ron," Hermione explained. "They're miniature likenesses supposed to grant power over the people they represent."

"But it's just a myth, right?" Harry asked, his face going a shade paler at the thought of what Snape could have already done- or was planning to do- with these dolls. "I mean, voodoo doesn't really exist, does it?"

"Just like wizards and magic are just myths, Harry?" Hermione replied, sporting a raised eyebrow that would have made Snape himself proud.

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted, finally boarding the `I-eventually-got-a-clue' train. "You mean that Snape can make us do anything he wants?"

"I don't know. Have either of you felt any different lately or done anything strange?"

Both boys nodded `no' to Hermione's question. Harry looked further at his own figurine, taking note of the many scratches and contusions, a cracked right eye button, and rip in the fabric of the left arm. "He's definitely been using these for something."

"Look at this," Ron said, being unusually observant as he showed his friends the beginnings of a doll-shaped indentation in the far wall. "You don't suppose. . ."

"Yes, Ronald, I do," Hermione huffed as she attempted to fix one of the cracked teeth on her doll.

"We can't let him get away with this!" Ron fumed, his face turning as red as the hair of his manikin. "We have to do something!"

"Oh, we will," Harry said, a frightening expression circling in his emerald eyes. "Make no mistake. Snape will pay."

"Harry?" both his friends asked together.

With a maniacal grin that could frighten Lord Voldemort himself, Harry calmly answered, "I think it's time I let my Slytherin side show, don't you?"

Two days later, during Potions class...

"Well, the instructions are on the board. Get started! And no explosions Longbottom, or you'll be serving detentions with Filtch for a month," Snape snarked to his mixed class of fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors as he turned his back on them and sat again at his desk, resuming his grading of a stack of first year essays. His red pen raped the poor student's paper in front of him until he heard a strange scuffling and scratching noise coming from the inside of his right-side desk drawer. Opening it, he nearly fell off his chair in surprise as his three hidden Gryffindor toys jumped from the drawer and onto the desk completely of their own volition.

He was so shocked at this that he never even saw the self-satisfied smirks on three particular Gryffindor's faces, nor the quiet spell muttered under the breath of one in particular.

Soundlessly, the miniature moppets began exploring the surface of Snape's desk. The Ron doll quickly found the nice, neat corner of the professor's desk where he had arranged his writing utensils, potions ingredients and tools, and various stacks of parchments and notes, and quickly (and joyfully) proceeded to dump said contents on the floor in one, large, irritating mess.

Across the desk, the Hermione doll had found Snape's favorite Potions book - a rare first edition published by Salazar Slytherin himself. Not only did she tear the pages out, one by one, but then proceeded to fold them into little paper airplanes which she gleefully sent flying off the desk and into the amused audience of snickering students.

The Harry doll, meanwhile, had taken it upon himself to climb up the side of Snape's chair and settle amid the Potion Master's greasy, unclean locks. From underneath the tiny robes he produced a travel-sized bottle of `Sophie's No-Water-Needed Shampoo,' which he then emptied over Snape's head and proceeded to lather the frothy mixture amongst the dark dirty hair.

One would be hard pressed to determine which was louder- the sound of the combined classroom of students laughing until brought to tears at the `mini'-drama before them, or Snape's enraged screams as every spell he tried to end the enchantment failed miserably.

By the time class bell had rung and the Ron doll had set Snape's pile of utensils and papers on fire, the Hermione doll had destroyed the better part of the Potion Master's personal library, and the Harry doll had finished braiding his hair, the former-Death-Eater-turned-spy slumped defeated at his desk, not knowing whether it had been worse facing the Golden Trio in person, or the miniature miscreant versions of themselves.

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**This concludes this fic. Please review, your feedback is most appreciative, and be sure to check out our other stories on this site!**


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